


Pray for the Living

by chains_archivist



Series: Gladiator by Rina [5]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Boys in Chains, M/M, Slaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4223520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Rina</p><p>The trip to Coruscant brings with it revelations and a bit of understanding</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pray for the Living

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).  
> \--  
> Series: Fifth in the Gladiator Series; The Sojourner 1, sequel to "Shattered Plans"   
> Disclaimer: Don't own them, George Lucas does. If I did they would have had a much happier ending! The planet Golgatha as well as the general idea of the Arena and the Games are borrowed from Simon R. Green's _Deathstalker_ series - no copyright infringement intended as no money is being made off of this. 
> 
> Feedback: Yes please, it's addictive!

[Day 1]   
  
The unending night was broken by streaks of light. Stars: millions of them. Unknown, anonymous, unaware of the tiny craft that rocketed past them bearing its passengers toward an uncertain reception at the Jedi Temple.   
  
After locking the guidance system on autopilot, Ben Ken'ba slid from his seat, his sword rattling against the navigation console. He was tired; his body ached from the day's fighting, as well as the ghost pain from the man in the co-pilot's seat. All this on top of the Jedi's damned insistence that he go to Coruscant along with him.   
  
Habit had Ben reaching for a stim-stick, the familiar rush of adrenaline putting things into perspective once again. _Deal with what you can, let the rest sort itself out along the way._ "Get your ass to the med bay," he growled, glaring down at the Jedi. The older man was in no shape to argue with him at this point. If it was necessary, he'd knock Jinn out and drag him there.   
  
"I was just going to suggest that myself," Qui-Gon countered mildly as he stood, his right arm pressed against his chest. "If there is one to be had on this vessel."   
  
"There is." Ben's eyes flicked to the charred area on Qui-Gon's shoulder, mentally assessing the wound and what treatment it would need.   
  
The Jedi merely returned the stare. The only evidence of the pain he had to be feeling was a slight tightening of the skin around his eyes. Otherwise he appeared totally unaffected. "And how do you know that?"   
  
"Have been on this ship before, belongs to a man named Cratos. He owes me." This said, the fighter left the small bridge, heading down an unmarked corridor, his path taking them deeper into the bowels of the cruiser.   
  
"For what?"   
  
Ben stayed silent and Qui-Gon was forced to resort to sifting through those memories of the other man that he could recall in search of an answer. "He's made a lot of money off you."   
  
"So have a lot of people, it's the way of the Arena. Some people get rich, some people die."   
  
"But not you."   
  
"Oh I got rich all right, just never managed to die."   
  
"But you wanted to." It was a statement, not a question.   
  
"When the time was right. It was today until someone interfered."   
  
"Forgive me for hindering your plans." There was a hint of humor in the older man's voice. "I just had no desire to die myself at this point in time so your doing so would have been inconvenient."   
  
Ben palmed open a door and gestured the Jedi through into a small but well stocked medical bay. "There was no reason for you to die. She had me, that's what she wanted."   
  
Qui-Gon sat on the exam table and started to pull off his tunic. His movements were slow and painful and, after a moment's observation, Ben made a low sound of annoyance.   
  
"Hold still," he commanded, pulling out a dagger and expertly splitting the garment up the seams so that it fell from the larger man's body to the floor.   
  
"You know, I may have wanted to wear that later."   
  
"Then sew it back together when we're done here. Sit still." Hands that were surprisingly gentle in their touch went to work, first applying an anesthetic and then debrading the charred flesh.   
  
Through it all, something was still gnawing at the fighter and he finally spoke. "Why did you think you were going to die?"   
  
A layer of artificial skin covered the raw, angry flesh of his shoulder and Qui-Gon channeled the Force into the injury, encouraging the new cells to grow. How to explain the mechanics of a life-bond to someone who had never heard of one before, let alone been a part of it? "It's simple. If you had, I would have."   
  
"Sounds a little melodramatic to me, Sar Jedi," Ken'ba scoffed as he checked the bandage over the other man's wound.   
  
"Call it what you will, but there is a bond between us and I am telling you the truth." Qui-Gon concentrated and sent a pulse of energy along the link that connected them. Ben flinched and the Jedi nodded. "See? I feel what you feel and vice versa. It's there, you cannot deny it."   
  
Angrily the fighter slammed the instrument he had been using back into its drawer. "That's a load of crap. The last thing I want is some 'bond" to a fool of a Jedi who can't keep his damned nose out of other people's business! Hear me out on this, Jinn. When we get to Coruscant you do what you have to but I'm gone."   
  
"It isn't crap my friend." The older man's eyes held a wealth of knowledge and sadness in them. "It is the will of the Force, there's nothing you can do to fight it."   
  
"Fuck the Force!" Ben shouted, stalking through the door, his heavy footfalls hanging in the air long after the fighter had left the room.   
  
"I'm afraid it does not work that way," Qui-Gon murmured sadly. The trip to Coruscant would take them almost one standard month. There would be time to talk of this later. Now he had to concentrate on healing himself. He had the feeling that showing any weakness when dealing with his reluctant bond-mate would not be beneficial.   
  
With a sigh, the Jedi arranged himself into his favorite position for meditation and closed his eyes, giving himself over to the pervasive rhythms of the Force, allowing them to guide and heal him.

 

* * *

"Biggest load of crap I've ever heard . . ."   
  
Ben's muttered comments preceded him as he stalked through the corridors of the cruiser. Unfortunately, its small size meant that there weren't many places to go. The cargo hold took op most of the space, while the med bay, three cabins, and a tiny galley used up the majority of the rest. Thankfully - for Cratos was a man who wanted the best - there was also spacious lounge that could double as a training facility with only a bit of renovation.   
  
Food wasn't a problem. The cruiser was well stocked for whatever trip the information broker had been planning. Fresh meat, breads, vegetables, a wide variety of spices and condiments and a selection of wines and liqueurs that would do any connoisseur proud.   
  
An image of Cratos' expression when he found out that his ship was gone made the fighter laugh, the sharp bark loud against the silence of the galley's unadorned walls and floor. The stretching of his facial muscles brought a twinge of pain with it and Ben rubbed at his cheek with his palm. His hand was tinged with blood when he pulled it away and it was then he remembered the lines the Empress had dragged across his face with her nails earlier in the day.   
  
Satisfied that everything on the ship was as secure as it could be and that he and the Jedi wouldn't starve during their journey, Ben palmed the lights in the galley off as he headed out of the room. Choosing one of the cabins at random, he peeled off his clothes, tossing them in the sani-unit - who knew if there was anything on board that would come close to fitting either him or Jinn.   
  
A glance in the mirrored wall of the 'fresher room revealed the image of a wild man. Most of the dried blood had flaked off of his face during the run from the palace to the port, but enough of the gory mask remained to create an unsettling impression. Bared in the harsh light of the small room, scars stood out in stark relief against the darker tan of his skin. If he had wanted to, Ben could have recalled where most of them had come from and who had given them to him, but he had no such desire at this time.   
  
Slapping a hand against the water control (and silently thanking Cratos for being extravagant enough to have such a luxury on his ship), Ben stepped under the pounding spray. The heat and force of the water rinsed the accumulated blood, sweat and dirt from his body, leaving the fighter feeling cleaner then he had in all his years on Golgatha.   
  
Leaning his palms against the wall, Ben let the force of the droplets work at the tension in his back and shoulders, slowly eroding them away as a river would the sharp edges of a boulder in its path. Tightly drawn lines relaxed, revealing a youthfulness that was not at all apparent in the face he presented in public.   
  
Blue-green eyes closed and Ben rested his forehead against the cool wall of the shower stall, relaxing for what felt like the first time in his remembered existence. Free. No more challenges, no more battles, no more dealing with the whims of the Bitch and her power-hungry court.   
  
The sensation would have felt better if there hadn't been that slight tugging at the back of his mind. The reminder that, while he may have been free of Golgatha and all it represented, there was someone else who claimed a hold on him now, sent the vestiges of calm the fighter had found skittering away.   
  
Probing at the connection as he would a painful wound, Ben found only silence at the other end. The Jedi was there - but then again he also wasn't, not consciously.   
  
"Good, maybe he'll stay that way until we get to Coruscant." The muttered words were drowned out by the noise of the spray, then all was quiet as Ben turned off the water.   
  
Shaking his head to remove the excess water, he moved over to the sonics, letting the quick blast dry him. Dressing in his now clean garments, Ben shook another stim-stick out of the container, frowning when he saw how few were left in it.   
  
As addictions went, the adrenaline-loaded sticks were mild; their loss wouldn't cause death or hallucinations. If there weren't any more on the ship though, the fighter knew he was in for several uncomfortable days. Readily available on the open market, their abundance was the one reason Ben had allowed himself the luxury of the temporary relief they offered. There was no way to govern or limit their spread - half the populace used them, to cut them off would have been madness.   
  
Unfortunately, that bit of information did nothing to help his present situation. What had begun as a minor habit had developed into a full-fledged addiction that worsened with each passing year he spent under the Empress' control.   
  
Training would help. Sparring would be even better, but he doubted that the Jedi would be in any shape for that soon. That left one solution: the careful rationing of the supply he did have and an immediate search for something that could provide a substitute for the rush the adrenaline dose gave him.

* * *

[Day 3]   
  
Muscles flexed under sun-bronzed skin as Qui-Gon studied his shoulder, comparing the movements of his now healed arm to those of his unscathed one. Near to the same range of motion, movement mostly free of the pull of healing skin; three days of almost constant meditation had restored his limb to nearly full health. The only thing that could be improved upon was his strength. That though would come with training and time- something he had an abundance of at this moment.   
  
He had seen little of Ken'ba the past two days. The fighter had dropped off meals for him at first in the med center and then in the cabin he had appropriated, but the other man had hardly spoken and only then if asked a direct question.   
  
Ben seemed jumpy, a direct contrast to the deadly calm that normally seemed to surround him, and Qui-Gon had so far been unable to ascertain the reason. There were no enemies out here unless you counted those each man carried within himself. Perhaps, the Jedi mused to himself, those were the worst of all.   
  
The ship's stores had included a variety of clothing and, though none of it was of a perfect fit, Qui-Gon had managed to find a tunic that fit him through the chest. The fact that it was too short in the arms was of little consequence, any covering was better than none in against the chill air of the cruiser.   
  
The first day of his meditation had been occupied with healing his arm. The next two - while still involving using the Force to rebuild his shoulder - had been less of a concentrated effort. As his attention was free to explore other pathways of the Force, Qui-Gon had found himself examining the narrow but unbreakable threads of the bond that connected him to the other man.   
  
Through the link, he had been able to determine that Ken'ba spent much of his time practicing, working himself daily into a state of exhaustion for some unknown purpose. Perhaps - if the bond between them had been deeper - the Jedi could have understood his lifemate's motivations. As it was, he was still mostly blocked from the younger man's mind.   
  
_He's going to kill himself - and me - if he keeps this up._ After pulling his tunic back on, moving carefully to avoid stressing his shoulder, Qui-Gon left his cabin, walking down the hallway toward the lounge. Lush maroon carpeting whispered under his boots and artwork (probably very expensive but none-the-less gaudy artwork) adorned the lavender walls. Whoever this 'Cratos' was, he had money. Just not much in the way of taste.   
  
The door to the lounge was open and Qui-Gon leaned against the left side of the entryway, watching quietly as Ben worked with a set of jury-rigged weights. A tingle of desire shivered through the part of his mind that housed his bond-awareness, but the Jedi firmly quashed the erotic leanings of his thoughts. There would be no more of the mindless animal coupling between them. The next time they came together it would be with the knowledge of who and what they were. He would not be ruled by the base demands of his body. He _would_ not.   
  
"If you're well enough to be up and walking around, you're well enough to make your own food." The comment was accompanied by the dull thump of the weighted bar hitting the carpeting and the deep, even exhalations of the fighter's breath.   
  
"What? Not going to tell me how much cooking I owe you for the meals you prepared already?"   
  
Ben swiped at his face with a deep purple towel, then tossed it over the bar. "Consider those paying off the debt I owe you," he stated, leveling at stare at the older man as if daring Qui-Gon to contradict him.   
  
"Paying your debts means a lot to you, doesn't it?" The Jedi queried, moving from his place in the doorway to take a seat on one of the sofas that had been pushed to the side of the room. The butter-soft leather (shame about the electric blue color) looked and smelled to be brand new

* * *

[News from Council - the Empress has publicly admitted to everything illegal she's been involved in: slave trading, murder, drug trafficking. Q-G realizes this is what Ben told her to do, sends what data he has on Ben to the Jedi]   
  
[Day 15]

* * *

[Ben suffering withdrawal from stim-sticks, Q-G helps him get through it, seduction]

* * *

[Reach an impasse for the trip, wary trust develops, Q-G sends a sample of Ben's blood to the Temple for a midichlorian count]

* * *

[As they reach Coruscant Q-G receives word that he is requested in the Council Chamber ASAP, they have news for him]   
  
~end~ 


End file.
